Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (8 page)

Supposedly, Meg tested all the girls regularly for babies and STDs. And right now, a very disappointed looking Megan Willow Wilder stared me down, her arms folded.

Firefly made damned sure I kept my butt in the chair where he'd planted me.

“I'm disappointed,” she said, shaking her head. “Believe it or not, despite what this place is, we're supposed to keep a certain order around here.”

Firefly nodded. I looked at them both defiantly.

The way I burned for him –
that
was dangerous – especially when the only thing blazing should've been rage and shame.

“I couldn't take it anymore,” I said. “I thought I could, and I'm sorry I let you down. I just hit my limit and...I broke, Meg.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the devilish energy seeping out of me, leaving me totally drained. “Honestly, that's what happened. The things those girls said, the way they treated me, letting everything roll off their shoulders.”

“Trig won't be working no more, darlin',” Firefly rumbled.

Meg looked at him, surprised, and so did I.

“Club needs bitches it can rely on to shake their tits and asses. We don't need loose cannons.”

“Um, excuse me, do you
know
how hard it is to find girls who test clean in this town?” I'd never heard Meg sound so sour.

“Yeah, doll, as a matter of fact, I do. No, I didn't get an education about manpower in my daddy's business, and I don't know how to crunch numbers like Skin. But I do know any crew's downright fucked with the wrong people – including this one.” He spoke like he'd just launched a billion dollar startup.

I wanted to laugh at his arrogance. Like he knew anything about business?

“Dust'll hear about this shit sooner or later, and I know he'll agree with me. You think this girl went off like a grenade because the stripper bitch looked at her wrong? Fuck that! She had a good reason.”

“Firefly, I'm sure she's telling the truth. I
know
who started it. But losing Trig is going to hurt us. We're stretched thin as it is.”

“Let me make it up to you,” I said, standing. “Look, I don't know this business, this world, the way either one of you do. But I'm not giving up, guys. Not after today. I'm going to do my job right. These girls respect toughness. They won't get away with pushing me around anymore. I won't let them drag themselves out a minute late unless there's a damned good excuse. Give me another chance. I'll
make
them make this club rich!”

“Well, I'll have to talk to Dust,” Meg said, staring at the ground before she looked at me. “If it's up to me, I'll give you another chance. Once, I had to adapt to this world, too. Growing pains are the norm, not the exception.”

She pulled her leather jacket tight, the one with PROPERTY OF SKIN patched on the backside, like it insulated her from some ugliness she'd lived a long time ago.

“Prez'll leave her be,” Firefly said. “Let me talk to him. We'll trump this whole fuckin' incident up to nothing but a skank with a screw loose. I believe in Cora. She's a smart girl.”

I blinked. No way. Had I heard him right?

He couldn't really be...complimenting me?

He looked at me then, a reassuring smile shining in his ice blue eyes. “Also believe she'll come around and learn to behave herself.”

Asshole.
I bit my lip, only giving him a pass because he was on my side tonight.

“Whatever. Just...get her home until I can sort out the chaos,” Meg said, frustration overwhelming her. “Ugh. And to think I left daddy's company for this,” she muttered to herself.

Firefly stepped up to me and stuck out his big hand. “Walk with me, babe. We'll make sure you're safe from a concussion or some shit, and then I've got a surprise for you. Something that oughta go far to take the edge off that stick up your ass.”

“Okay! You're really pressing your luck,” I said, taking his hand reluctantly.

More surprises were exactly what I didn't need today. But if it was half as thoughtful as the wine the other night, then maybe he'd prove me wrong.

I caught myself as we headed for his bike, shaking my head. What the hell was happening here?

Firefly shouldn't be rattling around in my head when I'd just survived the fight with a stripper. I'd narrowly avoided losing my job, my only chance to stockpile some cash for the life I wanted after all this.

Every muscle I had tensed up, and I realized with horror what was happening.

The big, arrogant, bossy bastard was kicking his way into my heart, one day at a time.
God help me.

* * * *

W
e went by the clubhouse for half an hour. An older woman, Laynie, checked me over while Firefly stood outside the bathroom.

She took my pulse, pressed several points, and asked me to rate the pain. If I hadn't known any better, I'd have sworn she was a nurse or a doctor at one time.

But why would someone like that be working for this club?

Money goes a long way.
I reminded myself.
Money is probably what got daddy killed.

Thankfully, she didn't say much. I needed the peace and quiet.

When it was all over, she turned me out with a clean bill of health. Firefly grabbed my hand again as soon as I stepped out.

“Ow! Just because she says nothing's broken doesn't mean I don't have some scrapes and bruises.”

He loosened his grip. “Whatever. They can't be half as bad as the damage growing on your soul. I'm fixing to undo a little of that tonight.”

“What are you talking about?'

Firefly flashed me a sharp look, lifted his free hand, and pressed a finger against those big, rough lips surrounded by his stubble. “Quiet, babe. You'll find out soon enough.”

Ass.
Naturally, I thought about those lips doing dirty, unspeakable things the entire time we were on his bike, riding through Knoxville.

My hands didn't want to press too tightly to his rock hard abs while we rode. This, right here, was starting to feel
very
dangerous.

If I let myself hold onto him the way I really wanted, if I threw common sense to the wolves, then I'd come closer to the awful fantasies about his rough hands, his lips, his muscles, and his piney masculine scent.

I wasn't stupid. Any girl who came too close to this man for her own good was bound to get burned.

That wouldn't happen to me. I wouldn't let myself become the latest tinder to be stamped out the morning after I let him have his way.

* * * *

“D
amn, I should've brought a fucking blindfold. Would've made this shit a lot more fun.” His cryptic words kept coming as we parked in front of a cozy looking building.

I bit my tongue to keep myself from imagining all the things a bastard like him could do alone with just a girl and a blindfold. He grabbed me, helped me off his bike, and led me toward the door, fishing a key from his pocket for the main entrance.

“Third floor's where we're at. Shame I couldn't get anything lower, but fuck, the view makes up for it.”

My heart began pounding as he led me up some stylish steps, my hand in his.

We stopped in front of a dark wooden door and I watched him change keys on the ring. One push, and we were inside it, standing in an apartment with spartan décor and nice wood finishes. It smelled piney, almost like a lodge.

“Here, darlin'. Catch.” Firefly barely gave me a second to turn around before he threw the keys he'd been holding.

My hand darted out. I grabbed them before they hit the floor. “What...what is this?”

He snorted. “What the fuck does it look like, babe? This is your new place. Assuming you wanna cool your heels somewhere else that isn't my bed at night, anyway.”

His cocky smile said anything involving me and his bed would've been just fine. Holy crap, that reminded me...

I quickly walked through the apartment, a nice single bedroom unit. Kitchen couldn't have been more than ten years out of date, and it seemed fully furnished – everything except a TV.

In the bedroom, there was a dresser next to a brand new bed, a big furry blanket with an outline of a black bear thrown over it.

“The blanket's a loaner,” he said, walking up behind me. “That shit's been in my family for years, but it'll do 'til we can figure something else out. Can't guarantee how long you'll be here, or how long you'll want to be. If trouble comes to town looking for you, then the Prez'll want us to move, and I can't do shit about it.”

We locked eyes. I nodded, understanding the strict terms attached. Hell, for a place this nice –
my
place – I'd have put my lips all over him.

I let out a sigh, desperate not to let him see it. Jesus. The hot spot forming between my legs told me that wasn't just a torturous hypothetical.

“You follow me, right, darlin'?” The intense look on his face that said he could've eaten me alive didn't help cool the heat one bit.

I nodded, tilting my face toward the shadowy bedroom, hoping it would hide the flush blossoming on my cheeks. “Yeah. Everything's real tentative, I get it. Any other rules I should know about?”

“You check in with me twice a day. I'll still be driving you to the Heel and back to make sure nothing crazy happens. You got any other big plans to go out, I'm the first one you tell. Remember, same shit the Prez told you holds true 'til this shit blows over – no contact with anybody you knew before the club. Can't have your friends asking any weird questions or dragging you out for drinks when the mean motherfuckers we're worried about could show up any time.”

“Do I ever get to find out
who
I should be looking for behind my back?”

He hesitated. “Only when it's over, or when the Prez says so. For now, you see anything that says Torches, you run. Move your ass, and then pick up the phone, stat. Same goes for any guys sniffing around you, acting all suspicious.”

“Got it.”

“I meant what I said back there,” he growled, grabbing me and pulling me close to his chest. “You're a smart girl, Cora. You play by the rules we've set, and everything'll be just fine. We'll get through this. You'll never have to be up close and personal with yours truly ever again.”

Oh, God. Why did that sound so horrible?

The ache between my legs doubled. I gave him a quick squeeze and then tore myself away, before he could find out how badly I wanted to find out where those dark stripes going up his arms went.

“I won't forget this, Firefly. You're...you're a good guy. I think.” It sounded so stupid, but there wasn't any other way to say it.

He smiled, ran his fingers through my hair, and then pulled away from me, heading for the door. “You've got drinks, plus a few more wraps and salads in the fridge. Get yourself a fucking pizza or something. I'd have torn my balls off by now if I had your diet, eating the same fat free bullshit all the time.”

I was still laughing as the door opened. He disappeared, leaving me alone.

Really, truly alone, for the first time since the awful evening when I'd come home to daddy's suicide.

I closed my eyes, savoring the silence. At the clubhouse, there'd always been someone knocking around, laughing, swearing, or else smashing their empty bottle into a bin full of them. I couldn't count the times glass falling against glass had woken me up all those miserable hours.

I didn't miss it. Nothing about the clubhouse appealed to me except the giant dog. Nothing.

Except that wasn't strictly true, was it?

Don't lie. There's no one here you need to hide it from.

That voice in my head wasn't wrong. If I had to be honest, I was starting to miss him.

Firefly chiseled a little piece of me away every time I climbed on his bike, held his hand, or looked into his crisp blue eyes. I fought to hold onto it, knowing I'd lost too much of myself to hell itself.

But his tools were too precise, too powerful, too prone to smothering me in this insane schoolgirl crush coming on like a fever.

How long before I stopped fighting?
Good God!

And if I caved, if I let my lips touch his some dark, wild night, when I'd left the sadness behind just long enough to take a risk, where would it take me?

I couldn't handle another tragedy so soon. No more loss.

No matter how deep he stabbed me with his beautiful eyes or the warmth of his rogue embrace, I had to keep it together. I had to keep fighting.

I wouldn't. Couldn't. Didn't dare give in, or else it would be the end of me.

This man had heart breaker written in his soul, and the second I gave him mine, he'd destroy what little I had left.

I
blew the dummy's head clean off, shattering it like a rotten white pumpkin. Somewhere behind me, Joker's boy barked, halfway to the boom in a lion's roar.

“Shit, bro, can't tell who's fucking louder – that mutt or Firefly's gun!” Sixty laughed, cleaning his rifle. I turned around and saw him staring at the Veep, not-so-patiently waiting for his turn in the little box we'd set up for target practice.

Joker pulled his switchblade out of the stump he'd been carving, his eyes blazing on Sixty. “You call my purebred a mutt again, and I'll find somewhere else to sharpen my blade.”

Crazy motherfucker had a look in his eyes like he meant it too. Sixty put his hands up, a shaky grin on his face.

“Aw, hell, Veep. You know I didn't mean it. Maybe if he'd got himself a name by now, I wouldn't be having to grasp at shit to call him.”

“Name's Bingo,” Joker growled. Behind him, the big dog puffed up, and let out a loud yip.

“Bingo?” I asked, turning around. Sixty rubbed a slow hand across his face, no doubt suppressing a laugh.

“Grandpa's choice. It fits. The old man spends enough time playing that shit at the home, and the dog took a real shine to him.” Joker stuffed his blade back in his pocket and crouched, stroking the wolfhound's massive head.

“What about you, brother? Has that stray we brought in got herself a new name yet from working at the Heel?” Sixty grinned.

I wanted to march right over and wipe that dirty fucking look off his face. “Fuck, no. Told you before, she's not taking her clothes off. She's helping Meg.”